


I Hope There is Love (Where you're Going)

by Lil_Redhead



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Hopeful Ending, F/M, Lieutenant Duckling, Wish Realm AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-06
Updated: 2017-09-06
Packaged: 2018-12-24 15:30:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12015690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lil_Redhead/pseuds/Lil_Redhead
Summary: Lieutenant Jones does not want to see her leave, but it is not here that she belongs. Before he lets her go, he reflects on his life spent loving her.  Wish Realm canon divergence.





	I Hope There is Love (Where you're Going)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [swanandapirate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/swanandapirate/gifts).



**The Present Moment, Just Before the End**

It was a sacrifice that he’d make again.

Even as he lays on the ground, hand pressed up against the red hot wound that’s draining his life, Killian decides that he’d sacrifice it all for her. Again and again, if it meant her freedom, if it meant that she would find what she was looking for. The agonizing sting of the blade running through him is only a small price to pay, and though it’s becoming harder to breathe, harder to see, he regrets nothing.

In those moments, the thing he craves most is not a chance to somehow live on, or even have the pain stripped away. Her presence, her gentle touch, is the luxury the universe has denied him. There is yet, the faintest whisper of his heart as it slows. It tells the story of a slave turned lieutenant, and how he fell in love with his princess.

It begins _Once Upon a Time…._

*

**10 Years Ago**

“I know you’re following me, lieutenant,” the princess calls, not removing her eyes from the bushel of roses at her feet. Killian startles so hard, he jumps and hits his back against the tree behind him. Heat creeps in his cheeks so slowly he nearly turns away.  He should have known that she would sense his presence behind her, but he really had hoped that he could avoid having to explain himself. Ignoring his unreadiness to embark on such a confrontation while he’s blushing like a schoolboy, he reveals himself from the treeline.

“It’s dangerous for you to wander the woods unprotected,” he tries to say in an authoritative voice. “If the king found out that harm had come to you and that I _knew_ you were out here alone...”

“No harm has come to me before.” 

Princess Emma adds her new scarlet rose to her basket, then unplucks her dress caught on a thorn. Unamused by the conversation, she twirls away and begins to venture further into the forest. Thick skirts of pure white tulle spin like a ship’s wheel as the princess’ playful eye peers for a moment over her shoulder to make sure her faithful lieutenant is still following her.

He is. He always is. 

“You’ve never gotten into any harm out here because I’ve always been with you,” Killian reasons, scurrying forward to catch up with her as she saunters down the forest path.

“You naval types are so predictable,” she comments with a gentle tease in her voice. “But you haven’t always been with me, you know. You often set out to sea, disappearing for months on end.”

Killian is sure it’s his imagination playing tricks on him when he hears the slightest trace of sourness in her tone at the mention of his absence. He resists the urge to tug the hair behind his neck. If his heart wasn’t pounding so wildly in his chest, he might actually be annoyed. He settles for walking beside her, knowing that there is no way he can convince her to turn back now.

“Perhaps, but when I’m gone at sea - doing my _duty_ , I might add - surely there is someone else here to watch over you.” Killian knows exactly who takes his place when he is gone, but even thinking the name makes him sick with jealousy.

“Baelfire is much less protective than you are. He lets me embrace my adventurous side.”

_Then perhaps he should be watched, too,_ the lieutenant thinks, but doesn’t voice aloud. Emma has known Killian for a long time, though. His silence tells her that she’s gone and hurt his feelings again. With a sigh, she stops walking and turns to face him.

“Lieutenant, we’re friends, are we not? You don’t need to walk behind me. Walk beside me.”

Killian knows she is betrothed to Baelfire, utterly in love with whatever redeeming qualities the bloke supposedly has, but it’s when she says things like this that make the lieutenant have the briefest hope that one day she might choose him instead.

*

**Nine Years Ago**

The princess’ screams echo across the palace walls, shaking the chandeliers so much that Killian almost fears that the fragile crystal lights will crash onto floor. He even almost hears the bustling of castle staff around him, scrambling for water basins, cloths, dry pillows, _anything_ to ease the princess’ suffering.

But the one thing Killian does hear is the doctor’s murmur that he fears Princess Emma may not make it.

The lieutenant finds himself with his forehead pressed to the door of her chambers, fist digging into the wood above his head. He concentrates, silently begging for any indication that she’s alive, that she’ll survive this. He’s already lost his mother to childbirth, and he’ll be damned if he loses his princess to it too.

It takes all the strength and willpower that he’s built up through his naval training not to burst into the room and take the princess’ hand. He aches to wipe the sweat from her forehead, give encouraging words to help her through her labor. It’s such an easy fantasy, the one where she smiles when the hard work is over and tells him that she couldn’t have done it without him.

But Killian knows very well that he will never be the one to hold her hand while she gives birth. It’s Baelfire, her shamelessly indulgent husband, who currently holds her hand. Killian bit back his jealousy when Baelfire courted the princess, when he married her, and even when she announced that she was with child.

But knowing the prince was clearly not what the princess deserved fills Killian with rage. Maybe a lowly lieutenant doesn’t deserve the princess either, but at least he’d cherish her more than the flighty son of the Dark One has.

Killian is lost in his thoughts when the door he’s leaning on swings open. Nearly falling flat on his arse, he struggles to regain his composure. The crown prince himself glowers down at the lieutenant, face covered in sweat, frown etched onto his face. Baelfire only lingers his gaze on Killian for a moment, before scoffing beneath his breath and walking away.

“Wait! Is she okay?” Killian stammers, taking a harsh step forward. “Did she make it?”

Baelfire peers over his shoulder for a second, then turns to face Killian completely.

“What’s it to you?”

“Simply a loyal naval officer concerned for the well-being of his princess, sire.” It’s all he can do to keep his voice level and indifferent, but Baelfire isn’t convinced.

“She’s _my_ wife, Lieutenant Jones. You’d do well to remember that.”

The prince is gone before Killian can even draw a breath of response. He waits there, frozen in his place save for his fists that shake in anger. He wants to call out, “How could I possibly forget?” But he doesn’t. His only incentive to brush aside his rage comes from the timid voice of one of the princess’ maids behind him.

“Lieutenant Jones? She’s asking for you.”

In that moment, his bitterness is gone and his heart swells for the princess whose heart shines like the sun. His radiant, strong princess who survived the birth of her beautiful son, Henry.

*

**Seven Years Ago**

Prince Henry is two years old when his father passes away, and the princess is inconsolable. When she makes appearances in the castle, she’s a shadow of black, a lace veil cascaded over her tear-stained face. Killian only sees her when she spends time with her son, but the child can hardly tell how the life has been completely drained from her eyes.

In the sanctuary of his own mind, Killian has thought many terrible things about Prince Baelfire in the past three years. He remembers his jealousy and bitterness with guilt and longs to set things right, because no matter how harshly he judged Baelfire, he never wanted to see the prince dead.

More importantly, he never wanted the Princess to suffer the grief of losing her husband. It’s a pain Killian knows well, and seeing it drain Emma of her bright light is the same as watching the stars fade from the sky one by one. He cannot do anything but watch completely powerless.

He doesn’t want to head off to war so soon after the Prince’s funeral. The place he needs to be is by the princess’ side, but he knows his duty is to support his crew on their quest to defeat the Evil Queen. It’s a deathwish, this mission, but he has no other choice.

The night before he embarks off is one of a fitfully frigid chill. He sits in the dark shadows of his cabin, writing one final letter to her, when a quiet voice calls behind him.

“Lieutenant?” He’d recognize the sweet sonority of her voice anywhere. He turns to face her, and his lips break into a warm smile. It’s clear she’s snuck out of her palace to visit him on this ship just by looking at the simple peasant cloak that covers a pink rose colored dress.

“My princess.” He does not even attempt to conceal how affectionate he sounds, unsure if it’s because the effort is futile or because he’s running out of things to lose. “What brings you here?”

Emma takes a few more steps into his cabin, the gentle candlelight on his desk highlighting the contours of her cheeks and the glimmer in her eyes. She’s been crying, but she’s gathered enough strength to make it all the way here pretending that she hasn’t.

“I heard you were being deployed. Were you not even going to say goodbye?” she admonishes with a cross of her arms. Instead of looking angry, she simply looks scared, a little self conscious even. Killian lifts his letter so that she can see it.

“It’s a difficult time for you, Highness. I was just writing you a letter so that you could read it when you were ready.”

The princess says nothing. She pushes back her hood and plops in the chair across from him. Killian waits for a question, a comment, an order, anything. She settles on an honest request.

“Read it to me.”

“I’ve just started writing, princess.”

“Then make up the rest!”

He is powerless to do anything but comply. Unfolding the paper, Killian clears his throat and lowers the parchment by the candlelight to read it. The first word gives him pause. He had not planned on reading this aloud to her, nor sitting in her company to witness her reaction. Taking a deep breath, Killian bites his lip.

“Emma,” he begins. It’s the first time he’s left behind the formalities and simply just spoken to her, not as royalty, not as the future queen of Misthaven, just as Emma. He peeks up at her reaction, expecting to find her uncomfortable, but instead she’s smiling. The same old thrumming begins in his chest, knowing that just one word could make her grin like she’d seen the sight of pure magic.

“Keep going! I like this already!” she insists. With a smile of his own, he continues.

“I’m writing you to tell you that in the morning, I will be departing on the _Jewel of the Realm_ to serve in the fight against the Evil Queen. My enlistment has been in the process for only a short time, but with the urgency of the problem, mobilization efforts have begun sooner. I regret that this is my way to inform you, and I hope you can find it within yourself to forgive me.” Killian looks up to the princess’ mesmerized eyes, breath hitching. “That’s as far as I wrote.”

“Surely you have more to say!”

“Indeed,” Killian agrees with a chuckle. Keeping his eyes glued to his parchment, Killian allows the words to leave his lips. “What this poor sailor did to deserve the friendship of a princess, I’ll never know, but spending time in your company has been the best honor I’ve not even dreamed of hoping for. I’m truly grateful for all you’ve done for me, but I’m even more grateful that you allowed me the privilege of getting to know you. Even though your parents and your staff call you fragile and mild, I know you are strong and brave. You have true strength in you, Highness.”

“Killian...” Princess Emma says quietly, wiping a tear from her cheek. If she desires to say more, Killian doesn’t let her.

“That’s why I know you can make it through your grief. You can do it for you and your son. I will always wish for your happiness. There aren’t many things that I am sure, but there is one thing, and that is that you will make a fine queen.” He clears his throat. “In the case that I do not make it back home-”

“You’ll come back!”

“In the case that I don’t!” he cuts in a bit sharply. “I just want you to know something.”

Emma leans closer, the emerald green in her eyes captivating.

“Know what, Lieutenant?”

He’s about to say it, he really is, but then a deckhand knocks on the hatch and all the confidence he built up falls into the bilge pipes.

“Lieutenant Jones, you’re needed on deck,” the deckhand calls. Emma can see his confidence fail him, her smile dropping ever so slightly. She waits for a moment to allow him to gather courage once more, but he simply shakes his head.

Her disappointment leaves a bruise on his heart, but he just can’t bring himself to tell her. It doesn’t take naval training to know what her reaction would be to such a confession, and Killian is fairly sure the rejection would strip him of whatever endurance he had left.

“I’ll leave you to your duties,” she says somewhat solemnly. She reaches across the table, grabs the paper, and murmurs an honest, “Thank you for the letter.”

Killian’s eyes follow her as she shuffles up the ladder, memorizing every swish of her skirt, every glimpse of her lips, as if it were the last time he would ever see her. His heart is about to break in two, but suddenly she freezes.

Dropping from the ladder, Princess Emma marches right up to him and launches herself into his arms. Her warmth on him immediately sends his arms clutching her closer, face buried in her hair. He’s never held her like this, felt her heart beat so close to his.

“Don’t be reckless, Killian. Come home. I don’t want to lose anyone else.”

It builds more false hope, but the words are too sweet to his ears for him to back away. She’s warm and bright, the north star he wants to follow home, the sun that rises after an unblessed night.

“I will, princess,” he swears.

Her palm lingers on his cheek for what seems like hours, but just as quickly as she came, she is gone.

*

**The In-Between**

Lieutenant Jones is gone for seven years. No one knows where he is, or what he is doing. When he returns his naval jacket is torn, his ponytail has been clipped away, and at his left wrist where there should have been a hand, there is nothing.

The Princess occasionally writes to the lieutenant, claiming that he is one of her closest friends when her messenger displays suspicion. Even after he has been declared missing, and subsequently dead, the princess still sends her letters. It’s unsure if they ever reach him, but the princess never receives a single answer.   
  
Eventually, Princess Emma stops writing letters. The stifling pain that comes with the loss of a friend numbs to a tender soreness in her heart, and the image of his face begins to fade.   
  
But the Lieutenant never forgets about his princess. That much is certain.

*

**Three Days Ago**

Like a hurricane unleashed, Killian charges through the palace, each stomp of his boots beating down on the ivory marble floor as loud as thunder. He tightens his grip around the hilt of his sword, ready to unleash the wrath of a thousand furies. If the Evil Queen thinks she’ll be able to lay a single finger on Emma, she’s harshly mistaken. 

The palace guards hardly recognized him when he arrived, beard fuller, eyes wilder. Their watchful gazes had fallen suspiciously on his hook, and for a moment, he feared he had no way to prove that he was their dutiful lieutenant who had been gone for over seven years. But when they asked his name, he declared it in the same steadfast tone he had sworn his fealty with.

Killian can feel Emma’s presence just outside the castle wall. Whispers between castle guards had hinted that she was supposed to be locked in her room, but something tells Killian that this is the day his princess proves her strength. The courage she possesses will finally triumph over the submissive nature that had been shoved down her throat since she was a child.

Behind him, Killian hears the pounding of footsteps rushing toward him. He ignores it, a single purpose in mind. Soon the unmistakable voice of the senior commander is calling his name.

“Lieutenant, our best knights are already attending to her protection. If you want to help, there are ships in need of...” The commander trails off as he tries to reach for Killian’s shoulder, but is shoved away before he can grab him. Killian charges forward ever faster, not having the time or patience to deal with any interference.

“You _will_ stop _this instant,”_ the commander bellows.

It’s the commander’s tone that makes Killian stop, like decades of following orders had yanked on the reigns of his control and brought him back to the same obedient man he was seven years ago. His love for Emma is stronger than any obligation, and he can feel tension in his neck as he stands still.

“What happened to you, lieutenant?” the commander asks. This cracks something inside Killian, and the well-behaved officer is gone. He whirls around, marching right up to the commander, so closely that they breathe the same air.

“ _What happened?_ I’ll tell you what happened, _sir,”_ Killian spits. “I just spent the last seven years like I have spent my entire life, helpless to protect the people I care about because I was too busy following orders. I served the crown even when it made me sick to even look upon the prince. I obeyed commands even when it meant being unable to hold the princess’ hand while childbirth almost killed her.”

“Jones-” Killian grabs the commanders lapels and shoves his backwards.

“I am _done_ following orders and I will do whatever it takes to protect Emma.” The meaning behind Killian using the princess’ name is not lost on the commander.

“Even if it means losing your rank? Everything you’ve worked so hard for?”

Killian takes a breath which fails to soothe him.

“If something happens to her, commander, I’ll have nothing left.”

When Killian’s feet take off down the castle hall, the commander doesn’t stop him this time. And it feels good to finally do things on his own accord for once. In a blaze of determination and fury, he tears through the corridors until he finds himself panting in front of her door.

“No one is permitted to see the princess until further notice,” the guard blocking the door said, not meeting Killian’s eye.

“You’re a fool if you think she’s still in there” is his response, and before they can process what’s about to happen, he smashes a clenched fist as hard as he can into the jaw of the guard. Eyes rolling into his head, the guard falls to the floor in a heap. Killian is quick to snatch the keys to Emma’s room from the man’s pocket, and when he opens the door, he lets out a frustrated sigh.

He knew it.

She’s resourceful, he’ll give her that. Instead of finding the princess mourning at the loss of her parents, Killian finds an empty room. Her bed has been stripped clean of its linen, and the various sheets and quilts have been tied to together to form a makeshift rope. One end is bound to a pillar of her canopy bed. Following the line of the braided bedding, Killian sees that the other end is dropped out of her window. With a few hurried steps to the glass pane, which swings gently in the breeze, he discovers no other trace of her.

Fighting the urge to fall to his knees, he grips the edge of the sill and stares out at the vast expanse of Misthaven.

If there’s anyone that can find her, it’s him. He knows it.

*

**The Just-Before, The Almost-There**

Trekking through forest is not his area of expertise by any means. The ground is unsturdy, with no clear path in sight. To journey forward, Killian has to jump over fallen trees and tread up steep hills with nothing but the stars and a nearby creek as his guide. It’s a far cry from masterfully sailing across the oceans, but for Emma, it’s worth it. 

His source informed him that the princess was seen fleeing into the Enchanted Forest with the carpenter’s son, and chances are, she’d be traversing through the mystical wood for days to stay out of the Evil Queen’s view. Killian doesn’t know what the carpenter’s son wants with Emma, and for a split moment he wonders if maybe she’s moved on from the loss of her husband. The possibility of one day living by her side had been his consolation during his seven year absence, but it hadn’t occurred to him that she’d move on to someone other than him until now.

Shaking his head, he reminds himself of his mission. If his supplies are waning, chances are hers are too. After all, he can’t be sure if she had time to prepare like he did, so if he can make it just a bit further, perhaps he’ll find where she’s settled. Still, he’s beginning to weary, and it’s only been three days. He can feel it in the way his feet take weaker strides, mind groggy with the need to sleep.

He searches and searches, until the soles of his feet throb with a shooting pain. He’s just about to stop and give into his exhaustion when he hears a voice that makes his entire body go warm and numb at the same time. It knocks the air out of his chest in one burst, and suddenly the only sensation he can feel is his heart surging in his chest.

_Emma._

“Well they’re not exactly easy to come by. I wouldn’t know where to start looking for one,” she rambles. “They’re expensive too. I know someone who traded the fastest ship in the realms for a single bean.”

Thousands of times throughout his years away had be pictured this moment. In the darkest corners of his earth, Killian had used the memory of her bewitching smile and warm voice to save him from accepting defeat. He’d imagined scenarios where the princess would find herself overjoyed at his return, finally reciprocating his devotion. Now that he’s here, he can’t find it in him to move.

What if she rejects him? What if she’s moved on from their close friendship? Or worse, what if she’s forgotten him completely?

He promised he would come home to her. The least he can do is fulfill that promise, even if it means shattering his heart in the process.

On shaky feet, Killian moves toward the sound of her voice. When she comes into view, he can’t help but sigh, like a weight has been lifted off of his chest for the first time in almost a decade. Her back is toward him, and her dress is dirty from her adventures, but it’s her nonetheless. Her and her companion have packed up their camp and are just about to head back on their journey, but before they can, Killian calls out a choked, “Princess?”

Emma swirls immediately and Killian feels like crying. She’s even more beautiful than he remembered. There’s something new about her, not changed exactly, but it’s there in the way she stands taller and gazes out like she’s ready to take on any battle. The recognition is almost immediate as she stares at him with wide eyes, a gasp falling from her rosy lips.

“Killian?” she asks incredulously. The emotions pass over her face like the sun rising in the morning. Shocked, glossy eyes widen, only to blink in disbelief, then settle on the familiar gaze of warmth that he never forgot. For a long second, words are caught in her throat, and her lips fumble as she tries to get them out. Then she’s bounding toward him, skirts a billowing cloud behind her.

He has always believed that Princess Emma is the sun, but no hazy memory could ever do justice to the way she shines now.

His body moves for him, forcing him out of his stunned state. Meeting her halfway, he finds himself staggering toward her, the euphoria of seeing her too much. She collapses into him as if she had been standing for a century, his welcoming arms her first chance at reprieve. His name falls from her lips once, twice.

“Are you okay?” he asks into her hair. Warm hands are wrapped around her waist, fingers combing through her golden curls. She smells like stale perfume, wildflowers, and lake water, and Killian finds himself intoxicated. Nodding in response to his question, Emma grips the cotton of his shirt. He takes a moment to revel in the tingling sensation that sparks his nerves as he holds her, counting the exhales against his neck, nuzzling his cheek against the top of her head.

“I missed you,” he admits quietly. Affection overcomes him with the confession, and so he holds her tighter. 

She pulls back, eyes a bit glossy and runs the back of her fingers down his cheeks. Killian can’t help but stare down at her in awe. Never once has she looked at him with such affection before. It’s a weight off of his chest, because not only does she remember him, his return has made her weep in happiness.

“What’s the last thing you remember of you and I?” she asks gently.

“That night in my quarters, the day before my departure.”

What other answer is there? The hope in her eyes dims, but when she shakes her head, it’s more to herself than to him. She thinks for a minute, then turns to her companion.

“I’ve changed my mind, August. I want wait a bit longer before we head back out.”

Her companion narrows his eyes at Killian, and it’s still unclear of what she and the carpenter are to one another.

“We don’t have much time before the Queen’s men make it this far in the woods. If we want to find that bean-”

“A few minutes isn’t going to hurt anyone, okay? Just, go find some water or berries or something.” Her underlying message is _Make yourself scarce, I need some privacy._ With a scowl he fails at hiding, August yanks his bag from the ground and heads off down into the woodland.

“You and I have a lot of catching up to do,” she says when August is gone, grabbing Killian’s hand and leading him to sit on a blanket she’s laid down.

“I know about your parents, Highness. When I heard the news it shook me to the core and I knew I had to come find you.”

“It’s not that, I just...have something I need to tell you.”

She waits until he settles down to kneel before him. For once, it seems she is the stepping around him with caution. She reaches for his hand, and he welcomes her soft touch. Gentle fingers smooth over his knuckles, a comforting touch to prepare him for what she is about to say.

“This world isn’t real. It’s the creation of a curse cast by the Evil Queen.” She speaks the words slowly, giving in him the truth in a way that’ll be easier to swallow. He hasn’t said anything, or even moved a muscle, so Emma takes this as warrant to continue. “Not the Evil Queen that you know, either. It’s a long story, but she’s in my world too, a world without magic. This place was created to grant an unintentional wish I made to never be the Savior, and instead be a normal princess.”  

Then she waits. She remains silent to allow the words to process in his mind, squeezing his hand when his face contorts in pain.

“That man you’re traveling with,” he says finally. “Has he done something to you? Are you hostage? Poisoned? Under his spell?”

The princess releases his hand only to bring her tender touch to his cheeks, gently caressing his new beard.

“I’m safe with August. He hasn’t kidnapped me or cursed me. And there’s no one hunting me either. Regina came over from my world to save me.” At the mention of the queen’s name, Killian shoots to his feet and turns his back to her. It reminds him what he’s there to do. They’ve have their reunion, he’s had his moment with the princess. Now he has to set his priorities straight, before both he and the princess pay the consequences of his recklessness.

“This is ludicrous. You and I are going back to the castle now where we can keep you safe. I expected this from you when we were teenagers, but you’re a grown woman now. What do you have to gain by lying to me?”

“I’m not lying!”

“You came out here with nothing but, what? A man with a tool case and chisel? Did you even bring any food to eat?”

“Well, no but-”

“We’re going home.”

He already has one foot toward the palace when he hears Emma rise up and declare, “ _No.”_

“Bloody hell,” Killian mumbles, admitting defeat with a tired sigh. “What do you have to gain out here? If there’s no one hunting you, why run away? Why go on a wild goose chase with the entire bloody Royal Army?” His exhaustion is mirrored in her own defeated disposition. Right when he thinks he’s convinced her, she takes a few steps forward, straightening her back.

“I’m just trying to get home to my son, my parents, and the man I love.” Killian feels his chest crack in his chest, just another fissure in his heart to go with the other’s he’d gained during the years.

“A man,” he breathes out dejectedly. His bitterness doesn’t go unnoticed, and so before she can say anything, he continues. “Emma, if you’re doing this because you think it’ll bring your parents back, believe me. It won’t work.” He inches forward to shorten the distance between them, a tentative comfort, but she’s the one that closes the last of the gap. Killian finds no air in his lungs as they stand toe to toe, the princess still staring up with defiant eyes.

“I didn’t come out here completely unprotected. I have magic.” To prove her point, she runs her hands up his arms. Bright pearly light spills from her fingers, warming his flesh where his adventures had left injuries. The scars and abrasions fade in the tingling magic until there’s nothing left but healthy skin.

“The princess you knew, the one who was timid and spineless, that’s not who I really am. I just want to get back home. I’m going to do it with or without your help, but if you won’t help me I’m strong enough to get it done on my own.

Killian fights the urge to drop his forehead onto hers, so he settles on brushing an untamed strand of her silk hair away from her eyes.  “I’ve always known you would one day surpass me in strength.” She drifts into his touch, allowing him to caress her cheek.

This moment with her smile pressed against his hand is one he has seen in the sanctuary of his dreams many times. It doesn’t feel like he expected it to, though. Here she is finally allowing him to hold her the way he has ached to, but under what circumstances? She’s leaving and she can’t be convinced to stay.

“When you go back to this other world, will I ever see you again?” he asks quietly. The question strikes at her where it hurts, stinging her just hard enough that she turns her cheek away. Killian’s hand falls to his side, and he watches hopelessly as the princess takes a step back.

“No, probably not.” She says it like a judge decreeing a somber ruling. Her words are final, her intention resolute. “I wouldn’t have any reason to come back.”

It hurt when she told him that she had fallen in love, and when she handed the invitation to her wedding. It cut him through when he watched her husband seal their marriage a kiss, and left him many restless nights when he spent seven years with nothing but the memory of her emerald eyes.

But none of it compares to the agony that splinters his heart in half when she says that she has no reason to return. Especially after he spent his entire life serving her, loving her, aching to be something real and important to her. When she leaves, what will he have? Twenty eight wasted years and a heart damaged beyond repair.

Whoever is on the other side of the universe that she chases with so much conviction is a truly person indeed.

He recoils back, involuntarily taking steps away to distance himself from her.  He isn’t looking at her when it all falls into place for her, but he can feel the chill of her pity.

“Oh Killian,” she says on a whispered sigh. His lips taste bitter when he licks them, and he still refuses to meet her eyes. “I didn’t mean it that way. You have to know that-”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me, Your Highness. I’m just an officer in your navy. I’ve no business in your affairs.”

“You are _more_ than just -” She takes a step forward, much like a shepherd approaches a frightened lamb, but Killian jerks away.

“Your highness, if you require assistance returning to your…” he furrows his brows, “...world without magic, then I’ll help you. If not, I’ll not waste any more of your time and make myself useful elsewhere.”

Emma stares back at him, positively torn in two. It had been _years_ since Killian had seen the princess so troubled, but unlike the Emma he used to know, who would have nervously twiddled the embroidery of her dress, this Emma clenches her fists and stands her ground. Glistening tears arise in her lashes, a final plea for something that Killian can’t name. Whatever it is, it doesn’t matter. She doesn’t want him, and she probably never did.

Turning to leave, Killian relives the familiar shattering in his chest that he always felt when admitting defeat to her fate. Maybe in another life, he’d fight harder for her, be deserving of her affections. But battle after battle, raging against the odds to somehow end up by her side, the gods have made it clear that he is not welcome in her life.

Perhaps it’s time to stop fighting.

Or maybe, perhaps it’s time that she starts fighting too.

It all happens at once, so quickly Killian can’t remember how he got here. Her fingers find his wrist, and it doesn’t take too strong a pull to spin him back to her. Before he can utter a single word, her hands grab his cheeks and she’s kissing him.

_Oh,_ Killian’s heart sighs, _so this is what it’s like to live._

He stands there, nerves alighting and thrumming against his skin, and all he can think of is Emma, Emma, _Emma._ Instinct reminds him to move, the threshold is released, and Killian’s arms wrap around her. He feels her pressed up against his chest, her raging heartbeat an exact mirror rhythm of his. Melting into deliriously happy nothingness, Killian allows the princess to kiss him, mostly because he can’t find it within himself to do otherwise. All he can focus on is the soft skin beneath her hand, the silky quality of her hair as he weaves fingers through it, and the way her lips taste like the way roses smell, soft, sweet, and sophisticated.  

There isn’t enough in the world. After almost two decades of waiting and seemingly endless torment of silent rejection, here she is in his arms. Whatever his soul is feeding off of, there isn’t enough. Chasing after more, he lets her explore his mouth, and she’s just as hungry as he is.

Eventually the kisses slow down, and he reluctantly pulls back. Peering down, he finds that her lips are swollen and rosy. She sways forward a little, subconsciously chasing after another kiss with closed eyes. Her lashes fluttered a few soft times before she opens her eyes.

“I don’t understand,” Killian admitted quietly, his senses slowly returning to him. “Just moments ago you tell me there’s a man you’re risking your life to return to, and the next moment…”

“Killian,” Emma says, affection dripping into her soft gaze and the way she caresses his cheeks. “I’m trying to get home to _you._ To the Killian Jones at home who loves me, who’s probably worried sick.”

“How is that possible?” he breathes out. She reaches up, tugging her fingers gently through the strands of his chopped hair. Something in her gaze seems distant, like a longing that she’s been carrying in her chest now for too long.

“I guess I didn’t make much sense before,” she chuckles mirthlessly. “This world is the result of a spell. It only exists because a spell that the Evil Queen cast as means of getting me out of the way. This kingdom wasn’t real before the curse was cast, because the people here all have lives somewhere else.”

“And that somewhere else is where you’re from.” He speaks slowly, barely able to articulate his own confusion.

“Something like that,” she answers. Grabbing his hand and blunted wrist, Emma runs comforting thumbs along his skin, causing prickled flesh to arise. “See, you and my Killian have more in common than you might think.”

Somehow, even as the pieces fall together and he begins to understand, he finds that she’s making even less sense. This realm is known for its wide and extensive use of magic, but this...theory she has? It shouldn’t be possible. Still, how else could he explain the decade of yearning for her touch, pining for her affection. It went beyond simple attraction, manifesting into something that felt so real, yet distant and foreign.

“And I miss him. It feels like I’ve been here another lifetime, and being around you…” her voice catches, so she takes a shaky breath and tightens her grip on him. “I miss him.”

Killian isn’t sure what to think. First she tells him she’ll have no reason to return for him once she leaves, then she’s kissing him with unsuppressed passion, yet here she is telling him it’s painful to be around him.

“He must really love you,” he says weakly. A weak chuckle escapes her lips, and Killian brushes away the tear trailing down the side of her face.

“He does,” she agrees. “I love him just as much.”

A jealous ache settles in his chest. Who is this man that has earned the affections of the woman he has come to love so much? What makes him more deserving that he should be the victor in the contest for her affections? To know the battle has been lost to himself, a _better_ version of himself at that...He can barely stomach it.

It must show on his face because Emma takes his face in her hands, smoothing the angry lines of his brow with her thumbs. She opens her mouth to say something, but Killian silences her with a tender shake of his head.

“I hope there is love where you’re going,” he whispers, taking one of her hands and pressing her knuckles to his lips. She falls into his arms, grasps clutching at his back.

“Princess Emma really loved you.” He hears her whisper into his chest. It’s enough that his heart halts to a stop and he feels tears of his own swelling in his eyes. She’s everywhere, pressed up against him, her hand in his hair, her breath against his neck, her words shattering the deepest core of his soul.

“And I, in turn, loved you.”

He meant both of them, the Emma he spent his life longing to hold and the Emma in his arms who belonged to another version of himself. She knew it too. Her answer came in silence, and Killian felt nothing. There was only the bitter taste of iron on his tongue, and the thunder of the dead air. Letting her hold him was only making the ache swelling at his chest even more suffocating, so he pulled back.

“What do you need me to do?”

*

No matter how many times he vows that this won’t be as complicated as she anticipates it will be, Emma insists on preparing with the necessary precautions. As her and August pack up their small makeshift camp, Killian can only watch with a heavy heart. _Of course,_ it’ll work. He’s been in the Royal Navy for over ten years now.

This beast of a quest they’re solemnly preparing for is a simple encounter with bandits. Bandits who travel, and steal, and trade. Bandits who will probably take the princess’ offer of a sack full of gold for this...magic bean she’s after. And if not, they simply procur the beans themselves with the simple trick of sleight of hand. In the worst of scenarios, Killian may be forced to clash blades with them, but their expertise in robbery is lacks in the adequate skills for sword fighting.

Indeed, the plan is quite foolproof. Its high probability of success only brought with it the impending departure of the woman he so dearly loves, and for that, he despises it.

Not to mention, he’s spending their last moments together in complete silence, feet away from her as she rounded up her camp. Speaking more about her leaving than necessary just about splits him in two, tearing him apart at his core, but he doesn’t have the energy to engage in meaningless small talk either. Instead, he sits and watches, memorizing the sight of her. The way the sleeves of her dress clings to her stout arms, hair cascading in waves over her shoulders that even the sea would envy. Every now and again she peeks up at him, smile nearly gracing her lips, then remembers that she’s leaving him behind and turns away.

She doesn’t speak to him until the air between them is too heavy, and she says, “So, what does a naval lieutenant do for seven years away from home?

“Everything you can possibly imagine, and then some,” he replies with a humorless scoff. “I’d even entertained the idea of piracy when I thought it would bring me home to you faster.”

At first he expects his comment to ruin the mood, maybe he shouldn’t have been so forward, but Emma only laughs.

“I think you have more in common with the other version of yourself than you think.”

“What is he like, anyways? A seafaring man?”

“To the core. A sailor who worships the sea almost as much as he adores the woman he lives with. A true hero with a heart of gold.” Emma’s hand reaches up for something at her neck, but nothing is there except the tie to her cloak. The disappointment that flits over her face is just barely noticeable enough for Killian to spot it. She notices him watching her, so she bites her lip “Not unlike other sailors I’ve come across.”

“I for one,” he says clearing his throat, “am honored that I had the privilege of knowing both variants of you.”

“Please,” she scoffs. “This wish version of me was a complete pushover.”

“It may seem that way to you, but I’ve always known that strength was in you somewhere.”

Something in her gaze changes. For a second, he wonders if she’s forgotten who she’s looking at, because the softness is entirely new. But she’s happy, maybe a bit teary too, and that’s all that matters.

*

He’s been a bloody fool.

The encounter with the bandits goes _horribly._ All of Killian’s estimations regarding their strategy had been calculated based on the fact that Emma’s magic bean was hardly of any value. That, it seems, was his fatal error. Magic beans are allegedly among the rarest magical objects in the entire realm, and thusly incredibly valuable. So while Killian may have been able to snatch one out of the bandit’s pouches with the amount of ease he had expected, the bandits fought back with an unprecedented rage.

And since he is a man who should not have existed in the first place, Killian receives all the blows.

The bean is safely in Emma’s grasp, a fact the bandits are not aware. They land their angry blows on Killian, demanding he return what he stole. Completely unarmed, Emma only watches in horror. Through quick glances in her direction, Killian sees her searching for something she can use to fight back. Putting her life in danger is the last thing he’s going to let happen, so he fights back even harder.

It’s a loud skirmish of silver blades, red blood, and black pupils. It’s scrapes on his arms, burning in his legs, throbbing in his chest. It’s tears down her cheeks, the despair in her eyes as they overpower him.

It’s, “No, don’t hurt him!”

It’s, “Stay back, Emma!”

It’s the erupting burn of a sword he missed sight of driving through his chest, and a soul shattering “ _No!”_

And then, it’s nothingness. 

*

Killian manages to lift his heavy eyelids to the sight of Emma leaning on his chest, sobs wracking through her, and it all feels familiar somehow. He has enough strength to lift his hand through her hair. She jumps back, and _gods,_ how could a woman be so ethereal, even now?

“ _Killian,”_ she whispers desperately. “My magic...It won’t work in this realm. I can’t heal you.”

He feels it then, a fiery burn just below where his heart is. It’s damp, and he can faintly smell the stench of blood. His own, he reckons. Below him the ground is dewey and above him the stars sing him a murmured shanty about sailing beyond.

_So, this is it_ , he thinks in his quiet, resigned thoughts. She hears him, somehow, and her eyes give the answer, _Yes, this is it._

“Killian, I want you to know something,” she says quietly. “There is not a version of you that I’ve met that I haven’t loved. And I love _you_. I wanted more for you than this life gave you.”

Something wet trails down the side of his cheeks, and he isn’t sure if it’s his tear or hers. He’s lost strength to do more than nod softly, his throat closing in on itself. He doubts he could speak now even if he wanted to. But the gods grant him one last sentence, one last humble vow.

“I’ve had a worthwhile life loving you, Emma Swan.”

He hasn’t the heard the name before, but it feels right. It’s the last thing his heart speaks to him before it begins it’s gentle slow. _Emma Swan._ He wishes he had more strength to ask her to stop weeping, to promise that the pain was numbing and that this meant maybe somehow they could be together in that real life.

Her parting gift is one last kiss, first to his brow, then something soft and reverent to his lips. Her lips taste salty, but it’s sweet and comforting just the same.

“Go,” he whispers.

And she does. She takes the bean between her fingers, gives a nod to August, then tosses the bean across the forest clearing.

Through the blurs in his vision, Killian can see the ground open up, firey and orange. Wind cycles through the trees, and he has to fight against the urge to shut his eyes. He’s glad he does, though, because the last thing she does before she jumps in is turn back to him.

His final thought is how wonderfully he’ll sleep with his princess being the last thing he saw before he closes his eyes.

*

**The Here and Now, Finally Home**

She collapses in his arms after her battle with Gideon, and the only way he can catch her is by tumbling down with her. Her face finds a nook in his neck and she’s clutching him like they’ve been separated for a lifetime.

“It’s alright, love, I’m here,” he soothes. David throws him a worried glance, and Killian isn’t sure what to tell him. The only thing he is sure of is that his true love is finally home, and she wants him to hold her.

It’s only when they’re home and he sees the specks of blood on her cheeks that he begins to ask questions. But she’s not ready to answer, not yet, so Killian just holds her in his arms until she falls asleep.

That night he dreams of a life that feels mostly like his own, and she’s there too. They’re young, and he’s a lieutenant who adores the ground she walks on. He sees their parting, one in his cabin in soft candlelight, the other, a bloody goodbye that tastes too recent on his tongue. From his own lips he hears himself utter her name, and he wakes in a start.

Not dreams, memories. Not a realm completely comprised of wishes, but a leak of reality.

So when Emma wakes in the morning, Killian tells her she needn’t explain what happened. He already knows.

“Seems your lieutenant and I are more the same than you thought.”


End file.
